Dare
by MorgeeLove
Summary: "You couldn't get me in your bed let alone by my friend Malfoy." "You really want to play games with a Malfoy?" he smirks quietly, arching his famous eyebrows skyward. "Well we know you're a player, lets play a game. Let's talk, fight, say good morning and goodnight. Lets study together, go out together. And whoever falls in love first, loses." I smirk back. "Deal." he smiles.


Hi guys, it's been so long!

I just completely lost my way with These Lies We Live, I just wrote it so long ago I can't bear the thought of returning to it. But think of T.T.W.L as being in fifth year and a build up to this if it suits :)

I cannot express how hard I ship these two. I have great plans already written for this one.

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy is one of those unfortunate men, whose unrivaled good looks and charm are completely thwarted by his overly inflated ego and sordid temperament. And as he and his Slytherin posse strut down the corridor on this cool September morning, my lady loins echoing a faint tingling at the sight of him, the Granger blood inside me asserts my entire body and most notably my common sense that this is _the _Scorpius Malfoy. Being Rose Weasley I am the natural born enemy of said narcissist and man-whore. There should be no tingling or feelings or excitement in any part of my person, apart from in my fist where I should be poised a throw a punch or a hex at his pretty little face.

"I see we have finally found our place at Hogwarts Weasley." He smirks down in a silky tone as he finally reaches me, "5 years, it's taken you long enough."

"And you Malfoy are still very apt at talking down to your fellow prefects I see." I spit up from my seat on a low standing window ledge outside the D.A.D.A classroom, which I will most regrettably be sharing with a large group of Slytherins in a matter of minutes. I really do hope Albus breaks free from whichever fan girl group have him currently pinned down in some corner of the castle, and stops me from hexing Malfoy into being the new owner of a rather vicious type of genital warts. He may be beautiful, but he is an arsehole through and through.

"All part of the master plan little weasel. Just making sure the rest of you understand that next year, the Head Boy & Girl spots belong to Slytherin, which means me. And I do not intend on letting you and your family get in the way of that because of your last names." Malfoy spits, emphasizing his distain over the words _last names_.

"Do us a favour and crawl back into the hole you came from." Comes the rather more gruff tone of my cousin, his slightly broader and stockier shape coming into view from behind the finely athletic 6'2 stance of Malfoy. Albus' wand is drawn to the back of Malfoy's head. Overprotective show off. "We don't need you and Rose dueling each other down the corridors as well as across the great hall already, it's only the third week back. Lay off mate." Al grunts indifferently as he scoops me up from my seat, ushering me through the classroom door and up to a table at the far end of the classroom. We try to avoid as much teacher cooing and autograph requests to our parents as possible. As I take my seat I chuckle at him fondly.

"Al, I can handle a Malfoy on my own." I laugh, his eyes making sure Malfoy seats himself a safe distance away from us, although he chooses to sit to tables in front. Bad move little ferret, or should I say sitting duck. Al turns to look at me head shaking and laughing disapproving. He knows me too well from previous spats with Malfoy that I can most definitely handle myself in a duel.

'Ah but you must remember Rose you are a mere 5'3. He's not exactly the skinniest kid, one day he might just decide to squash you." He smirks affectionately, "besides, I'm not having you brandish him with your enormous exploding bogeys in the Great Hall again. They ruined my fucking food last Christmas leaving dinner!" Al and his food. I swear, that boy has one of Grandma Molly's garden gnomes incubating inside him and eating everything that goes in. He can eat for the entire Weasley family, which is truly saying something, although I'm not really one to talk.

"Al stop crying over spilt milk, literally." I smirk, raising my eyebrows.

"Rose stop trying to make yourself sound intelligent by using outdated food metaphors." Al challenges playfully. How dare he, cheeky son of a deatheater.

Metaphorically of course. Wounds are still pretty fresh over the kids of former deatheaters so we, well I, try to reserve that particular insult for Malfoy alone.

"Oh my precious cousin Potter but your surname didn't get you far in your O. now did it?" I taunt.

That one ought to strike a chord.

"Don't feel like I wont start pouring Malfoy-directed Amortentia in your pumpkin juice. It would be a fucking welcome break of silence from your fiery little Scorpius induced temper." Al hisses quietly whilst the Professor enters the room.

And as much as Al and I love each other unconditionally, and besides the fact that he is probably my closest and most trusted friend, I have little doubt he would find difficulty in making that threat happen.

I just about manage to mutter to Al a prose of profanities before the blond light bulb that is the head of Malfoy has turned to face us.

"Heard my name I believe. It seems both Weasley and Potter are in love with me." He taunts just loud enough so his fellow Slytherins catch wind and cast a low chuckle around the room, whilst the Gryffindors tut under their breath at his narcissism and a few shuffle in their seats ready to pounce.

But they don't need to worry as I flex my fingers around my wand aimed at his face, and begin to mutter the hex for giant exploding bogeys under my breath that Al so kindly reminded me about earlier. But Al sees me and yells "Rose!" just a moment to soon. I yelp slightly as the bleached head of Slytherins infamous 'corridor cupid' Brittany Gomshaw turns from the table in front to enquire into the commotion.

And unfortunately she turns a little to left and a little too far into the path of my miscast hex and all of a sudden this doesn't look so good for anyone.

Why I hear you ask.

Because a giant slug begins to slide out of her heavily powdered nose, swelling at an alarming rate as it does so whilst she screams the shrillest of all screams I have ever heard. She sounds like a fucking rat.

"Giant exploding slugs, Merlin please no." Albus says as Brittany's face turns to pure horror, just as the slug bursts black slime across the entire classroom. And the next slug appears from the adjacent nostril.

"GET HER OUT!" Professor Dubois yells as the class begins to scatter, taking shelter under their desks or running for the door. "WEASLEY, POTTER, MY OFFICE NOW! GET GOMSHAW TO THE HOSPITAL WING NOW!"

Al and I have picked up Lily on the way to the common room before dinner, and Al continues to declare the 'breach of his human and wizarding rights' with regards to the fact that Dubois gave us triple length essays as punishment, and how for me that is not a punishment at all.

Which is true. I have no objections.

But that terrible dropping of my stomach overcomes me like I have just accidentally tottered over the edge of the astronomy tower. James Potter, head boy, for some bizarre reason is curled up in a ball at the foot of the notice board his body convulsing with laughter. And the same goes for the rest of the Weasley/Potter clan. And the Gryffindors in the common room. And Fred surprisingly. I seldom see him laugh; most likely due to the fact that his father Uncle Percy is a reclusive sap whom can barley smile let alone laugh.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong?" I enquire loudly as the three of us step over the threshold, which only appears to make the laughing louder.

The Prefect Patrol rota is thrust in my face. It seems Dubois did have other punishments arranged the sodding bastard.

"You," I state slowly, "are FUCKING kidding me!" I cry in the most reserved way possible, shoving the sodding piece of shit into Al's vision as his eyes gleam with brimming tears of laughter and a slight hint of cunning. "This is not funny!"

Queue rising pitch in various shrieks from around the room, primarily from James who's boyish cackle is somehow appealing to witches around the globe who all pine for his attention.

"Rose," Al begins as his laughter settles; "I will do your rounds with Malfoy if you agree to do my essay for Dubois." He is clearly milking this situation to the best of his ability.

"You have a fucking deal on your hands." No way in the name of Dumbledore am I Rose _Weasley _doing rounds with Scorpius sodding _Malfoy_.


End file.
